


Aimé

by Athos of Trevilles boudoir (Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson)



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-19 10:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3607302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/Athos%20of%20Trevilles%20boudoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Milady wants to meet him, and Athos can't say no when the claim of urgency is sent in the form of an errand boy.</p><p>But the news she has to depart... Is much more than Athos ever thought he could deal with.</p><p><em>Aimé</em><br/>French for <em>"loved"</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Athos had been shocked when Milady had asked him to meet her in the Golden Harrow Tavern. The man was hesitant to go, almost reluctant to. Yet the errand boy that had come to find him, standing duty outside the Palace gates, had told him that _Madame de Winter_ said it was of the most importance that they meet, and what she had to say could not be said in the delicate writings of a letter, nor did she want anyone to overhear... Which explained such a late hour.  
  
It could easily have been a trap, set up by that snake of a First Advisor...  
  
Or Milady could need his help.

It was the overwhelming fear that she was in trouble that had Athos walking down to the tavern when d’Artagnan took his duty over. Within a half hour of finishing duty, he was walking inside the tavern, eyes darting around the place as he ordered a tankard of wine. He couldn’t see Milady at all; maybe she had changed her mind. He was on the spot of time, punctual as always... Maybe she just had not arrived yet. No. Movement from the darkest corner met his eye as someone waved, and he recognised the all-too familiar green sleeve of her favourite dress. Grabbing his wine and sliding a livre over the bar, Athos made his way over.  
  
They stared at each other, eyes delving deep into each other’s, nodding heads in greeting.. Athos noted her hand, curled around an almost empty tankard of wine. The woman must be under stress to be drinking what seemed to have been a full tankard; not a feat she normally achieved. He sighed a little and raised his own tankard to his lips, sipping the liquid.  
  
“You had better make this quick. I have places to be, summoned by Treville, Lieutenant duties to take care of..”  
  
Milady didn’t seem surprised at all by his curt attitude. When had he ever been anything else but curt, hard bearing? Even Olivier, with his laid-back, calm, can-do attitude had never been one for patience. The woman’s chest heaved as she licked her lips.  
  
“Six years ago, I had a secret. I kept it from you when I probably should not have. I was going to tell you but then.... What happened happened and I never got the chance to part onto you the news I was bearing.”  
  
Athos frowned at her words, looking up from his wine to raise an eyebrow. What was the woman on about now? He noted how she seemed to be avoiding his eyes, how she seemed to be looking anywhere, eyes falling everywhere, but never landing for more than a second. Worry began to pool in his gut.  
  
“What must you tell me that is of such importance, Milady?”  
  
Milady moved to drink her wine, taking a few mouthfuls quickly, one after the other. The words she needed to say would not form; could not form. Her words were croaked when they left her throat.  
  
“You have a child, a son; _an heir._.. He is living in Piñon.”


	2. Chapter 2

Athos had been about to take a sip from his tankard, but it froze halfway, her words reaching his ears. His baby blues found her and he stared at her, disbelief filling him. A son? Had he heard her correctly? No... No he couldn’t have. He forgot how to breathe, how to swallow and when his throat eventually found words, they came out strained, croaking ever so slightly when they formed on his lips.  
  
_“Excuse me?”  
_  
Milady cleared her throat, watching him. She seemed much more confident, her words slipping from her mouth with ease as Athos stared at her.  
  
“A son.”   
  
She finished the rest of her wine before setting her tankard on the table, clearing her throat.  
  
“I was pregnant when you tried to rid the world of me. The child survived, thank God, and I remained in La Fére to have the child. I stayed with him, raising him, and last year I left him with the innkeepers; they took a shining to the boy. He just celebrated his sixth birthday. I went to see him. He’s growing well.”  
  
Athos had a child. He stared at the table, her words washing over him, not being able to take much of it in, trying to process the original _you have a son_.

Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. In. Out.

He coughed a little bit, clearing his throat before his eyes eventually found her face.  
  
“ _A son_? What... What is his name?”  
  
“Aimé.”

The name slipped from her lips in an instant, a smile forming as she spoke it aloud. She loved the slight ring her son’s name had, how it seemed to twirl in the air after she spoke it.

“I thought it would suit a boy raised on his Mother’s love.”  
  
_Loved_.  
The name’s meaning echoed around Athos’ head as he nodded a little.

“I do believe it would suit the young man.”

He cleared his throat. Aimé d’Athos. It did have a certain ring to it... He shifted in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

  
“Will I ever get to meet the boy?”  
  
_Will I ever get to meet the boy_?  
The words seemed to send Milady into a silent panic, her eyes widening slightly. Athos was silent as he watched her. What would she say to this? It seemed that she never thought she would get as far as she had; she thought he would have left by now, have stood and left the moment she mentioned he had a child. A sigh escaped her lips.  
  
“You deserve to meet him; it would not be fair of me to prevent his from seeing his Father... On the condition that you stay completely sober the day before you see him and you don’t even look at a drop of alcohol whilst you are with him. I will _not_ have my son around a drunk.”  
  
Athos nodded, the words something he could easily adhere to. It might be rather hard for him to stay away from alcohol like that but if he ever needed a reason to stay sober, in his own wits, this was it. This was the wakeup call he needed.  
  
“Anything...”  
  
“He’s on his way from Piñon. He left tonight, a night journey. I’ll allow him a few days to adjust to the bustle of Paris. I’ll send you a message two days before I believe the time is right. If I think he wouldn’t be able to handle it, then I won’t send message. This will be tough on him as well as you.”  
  
Athos nodded, downing the last of his wine. Stay sober for that week. He would remain sober from that moment, no matter what. There would be no sneaky sips of wine on duty, no tankards to unwind from looking after Louis.  
  
“I await your word...”  
  
He stood and rushed out the room, inhaling the crisp night air greedily to help straighten his mind.  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Drink. _Hiccup_. Drink. _Hiccup_. Drink. _Gasp for air._  
  
Athos had lost count of what bottle of wine he was currently on, couldn’t even remember opening the bottle.  
  
_You’ve a son.  
He’s six years old.  
You have a six year old son named Aimé de Winter.  
  
_ The bottle flew across the room and smashed against the wall.  
  
Why had she not told him before? Why had he found out now?  
  
_Why did she not say anything when she was condemned?  
  
_ Tears poured down Athos’ face as he staggered upright. How drunk was he? He didn’t even know.   
  
Sobs racked his body as he shuffled across the room to tug his doublet on, collapsing on the bed to try and do his boots up.   
  
He left his lodgings tripping over his laces.  
  
//  
  
“It’s time for bed, Aimé.”  
  
The boy looked up at his Mother with a soft whine, putting his book aside. The woman leant down to scoop him up, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before taking hold of the book.  
  
“I’ll read a chapter to you, is that fair?”  
  
Aimé nodded, giggling a little as he was carried through to his room.  
  
Their lodgings were simple. They weren’t materialistic. They were not able to be mistaken it for a noble family’s. They had four rooms; a living room – which doubled as a bathing room, kitchen and then two bedrooms. It was all they really needed to get by on.  
  
Milady gently put Aimé on the bed, helping him change into the nightclothes he owned before tucking him in bed.   
  
“Momma’s just going to get changed and then we can read, alright, baby boy?”  
  
Her son nodded, curling up under the blanket and watching her leave. She was halfway to her own room when there was a strong thudding on the front door. Milady could have jumped out of her skin if it were possible. She reached for one of the daggers she had foolishly left on one of the side tables, sliding it up her sleeve as she walked to the door, peering out.  
  
Athos was barely able to stand, leaning in the doorway.  
  
She rolled her eyes and opened the door.  
  
“What?”  
  
She wrinkled her nose... The scent of bitter alcohol almost got her drunk.  
  
“I need to see him.”  
  
“Not when drunk, I told you this.”  
  
“You can’t keep my son from me.”  
  
“How did you find us?”  
  
“I saw you leave her the other day. I thought the landlady could tell me where you lived or such. Lucky coincidence.”  
  
“I will do whatever I want to, concerning _my_ son. I told you, no alcohol for at least a day before you see him...”  
  
“Anne... Anne please.”  
  
She physically flinched at the name.  
  
“Go home, Athos. Get sober. Get rid of your wine and then come back in a few days... And bathe. You smell like one of the drunks that sleep on the street.”  
  
But Athos wasn’t listening to her. Milady could tell by the way his eyes fell behind her. She turned to see Aimé in his bedroom doorway, staring at Athos. He looked terrified and Milady snarled.   
  
“There. You’ve seen him. Now _leave._ ”  
  
Aimé ran to her, hiding behind her skirts as he clung to her. A hand dropped from the door to gently caress through his hair.  
  
“That’s- That’s him?”  
  
“ _Olivier_.”  
  
His head snapped back to her and his head hung dejectedly. He gave a drunken sniffle before shuffling backwards. He tripped down the small step yet managed to regain his balance before shuffling off.   
  
//  
  
Milady shut the door and turned around, scooping Aimé into her arms.  
  
“Who was that man, Momma?”  
  
“Someone I hope you’ll get to meet one day... Come now, it’s time for bed.”  
  
They shifted into Milady’s room; she could feel Aimé’s shaking and she cursed her husband’s name. She stopped to select a small book from the bookshelf, an old favourite of Aimé’s.  
  
“We’re going to read about The Musketeers tonight, baby boy..”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I am so behind on typing this all up 
> 
> I'll try and upload a chapter a day until I'm up to date with the current role play (:

Athos woke in the morning with a groan. He could still remember those piercing blue eyes staring at him... With fear in them. His own son was scared of him. He kicked himself inwardly before stumbling up to grab the cold bucket of water on the windowsill. How could he have done that? Stumbled across Paris, completely ratarsed and nearly barge into Milady’s lodgings? She had told him. No access unless he was sober... Well that was another day he was going to have to wait to see his son. A sigh escaped him before he went on his knees, dunking his head under the water for a few seconds. He resurfaced with a gasp. Damn... Cold.  
  
After a few more dunkings, he got up, getting dressed, off to the garrison for early morning training. His eyes spotted the alley way heading through to Milady’s street, and his heart leapt. He should go; apologise... But who is to say she was there? He sighed. Aimé may be there, and who knew what the boy would do if he was scared of him. He turned his head, forcing himself to walk on.  
  
He hated himself for what he’d done.  
  
//  
  
_Parry._  
  
_Parry._  
  
_Jab._  
  
Aramis yelled out as Athos’ sword cut an ever so delicate slice into the side of his neck. The Lieutenant fell back, eyes wide as his Captain’s yells to stand down filled his ears. Athos dropped his sword immediately, apologising profusely as he tugged his scarf from around his neck, holding it against the dribble of blood. Aramis looked shocked, staring at the man with slight horror in his eyes.  
  
That made two people he cared for scared of him.  
  
A stable boy moved forward with a needle and some thread and Treville’s hand clamped down on Athos’ shoulder.  
  
“My office...”  
  
//  
  
“There was a lot of anger behind that last lunge.”  
  
Athos shrugged slightly, watching the man pace.  
  
“Athos you’ve been distracted the past few days.”  
  
He shrugged once more. How could he explain to the man that he had a son? That he had scared his son? That he was so ultimately terrified of his son refusing to want to know him that it was distracting him?  
  
How did he tell his Captain that it was his son from _a whole different life_? That he was terrified of something happening to the boy that he couldn’t prevent – or that he might aid.  
  
Athos dropped his head.  
  
“Are you not going to tell me?”  
  
“Not at the moment.”  
  
His eyes finally met his Captain’s.  
  
“I will tell you that it involves Milady de Winter. But I will tell you no more. Not until I am fully settled with it myself, Sir.”  
  
The Captain sighed. Athos’ biggest distraction. How did he not guess that it involved Milady?  
  
“Athos, if anything else happens like that... You’ll be in trouble, do you understand me?”  
  
Athos nodded, eyes flicking to the door at a ruckus outside – even louder than the sounds of the Musketeers training. Treville stood, leaving the room quickly and Athos followed.

He could have thrown up.  
  
//  
  
Aimé was struggling under the hold of two Red Guards and Athos had to fight ever single fibre of his body not to run across the training ground and take the boy into his arms.  
  
“Athos!”  
  
He thudded down the steps, stepping forward.  
  
“Comte de Rochefort has sent for the boy to be brought to the Palace. Milady de Winter told him that you were to accompany him, as his personal guard.”  
  
“Why am I to take the boy to the Palace?”  
  
Aimé almost sprinted to the man’s side. The boy’s bright red cheek flared anger around his body.  
  
“The King has taken Madame de Winter on once more as a Mistress. She asked for the boy to be moved to the Palace with her... Something the King has accepted... You are to take him for the Captain to meet him, ensure that he is no threat to the King at all.”  
  
“Because a six-year-old is such a threat to the King.”  
  
Athos bent down to scoop Aimé into his arms, bouncing him on his hip ever so slightly. To see his son hide into his shoulder from these men, despite the fact he was scared of Athos... What the hell had they done to his boy?  
  
“I shall leave immediately.” He turned his head to Treville. “If permitted.”  
  
Treville nodded and the guards left. Athos sighed a little, whistling for Roger to trot into the centre of the training ground. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him as he slipped Aimé into the saddle, taking hold of the reigns. He didn’t turn around as he walked off, clicking Roger to a slow trot, hand finding the terrified boy’s as he whimpered.


	5. Chapter 5

Athos stopped Roger in the gardens, lifting Aimé down and taking his hand. He gave the reigns to a servant, leading the young boy into the Louvre. He could feel the boy shaking, and he leant down to pull him up into his arms.  
  
“I don’t want to do this!”  
  
“I know, but if your Momma is here then you need to be here as well, shh now.”  
  
They passed the Red Guards and Athos glared at the Lieutenant with as much malice as he was glaring at the Musketeer. Then they were gone and Athos let out a soft sigh. He placed Aimé back on the ground, taking his hand as they walked through the long, twisting halls. It killed Athos to see his son look so bewildered, looking smaller than he usually did. He kept going, staying silent as he walked up to the throne room doors. For once, they were open, and Athos stood in view as he knocked.  
  
“Aimé de Winter to see the King.”  
  
“Let him in.”  
  
Louis seemed to be on the edge of his throne, and Rochefort was staring at the boy with the utmost look of hatred in his eyes.  
  
“Does the Musketeer Athos really need to escort the boy, Your Majesty?”  
  
“ _With all due respect,_ Your Majesty.” Athos licked his lips, quickly speaking before Louis could hope to process Rochefort’s words. “With all due respect, Sire, Milady de Winter asked me to protect her son, and I would rather do my job until he is safely in his Palace rooms, or ready to be escorted to their current lodgings, depending on your outlook, Sire.”  
  
Louis nodded and looked up at Rochefort.  
  
“I can’t leave a young boy without protection, Rochefort.”  
  
He stood up, moving to look at the boy.  
  
“What’s your name, child?”  
  
“A-Aimé.”  
  
His hand tightened in Athos’, shuffling closer.  
  
“Who is your Mother, Aimé?”  
  
“M-Milady de Winter.”  
  
“Milady told me she was your Aunt. Are you lying to me? Speak boy, answer me.”  
  
Aimé whined a little, moving to chew on one of his fingers. Athos cleared his throat.  
  
“Sire, I have been protecting the de Winter’s for some time now. Milady is the boy’s aunt; her sister died when Aimé was a few months old. She’s been there for him for so long; she’s the only Mother the boy has ever known.”  
  
He remembered her discussing such a story with the Cardinal once. Did Richelieu ever know about Aimé? He shook his head slightly as the King nodded.  
  
“And your Father? Do you know your Father?”  
  
Aimé shook his head.  
  
“Momma said he died before I was born.”  
  
At least Aimé knew that lie.  
  
“Oh Aimé, I am sorry...”  
  
“Your Majesty, forgive me, but, surely allowing the child of your Mistress into the Palace will reflect badly on the Queen and on France. It would raise questions.”  
  
“Nonsense, this boy is obviously not related to me. No, no, Athos would you escort him to the East Upper Hallway, he shall be having the chambers I had when I was a child. He should settle in.”  
  
Louis turned to begin walking back to his throne.  
  
“And once you have done that, be off to your garrison. We can’t have my Musketeers slacking in protection.”  
  
“I believe they already have, Your Majesty.”  
  
Athos could have punched the man.  
  
//  
  
“I don’t like it, Papa.”  
  
Athos looked up at Aimé, sitting on the bed, as he helped undo his shoes to take them off. The word _Papa_ sent a shiver through Athos’ spine, a smile on his face.  
  
“What don’t you like, Aimé?  
  
“I want Momma...”  
  
“I know you do, but Momma is busy with the King...”  
  
Oh he needed to talk to Milady about this. Sooner, rather than later.  
  
“What is she doing?”  
  
“Adult things.”  
  
“Like protecting France?”  
  
“Sort of, baby boy.”  
  
He sat next to Aimé, tugging the boy into his lap.  
  
“Now then, you are in the best house in all of Paris, Le Louvre!” He smiled softly. “It is really big, but you’ll get used to it, I promise now.”  
  
Aimé looked up, his big blue eyes round and tearful.  
  
“Why can’t we just live at our house?”  
  
“Because the King wants you both here.”  
  
“What about you?”  
  
Athos didn’t know whether to be happy or to wonder about how quickly he had made an impression on the boy.  
  
“I live at the garrison, where I work.”  
  
“As a Muskyteer?”  
  
“As a Musketeer, yes.”  
  
Athos stood with a sigh.  
  
“Now then, I have to go.”  
  
“Back to the garyson?”  
  
“Back to the garrison..”  
  
Athos smiled a little before leaning down to press a soft kiss to Aimé’s forehead.  
  
“You behave around here, you hear me? And listen to your Mother.”  
  
Aimé nodded and went back to looking around the big room. Athos opened the door, and almost fell over Rochefort, standing in the middle of the room, a sly smile on his face. It made Athos uneasy.  
  
“Secrets can get you killed, Musketeer.”  
  
Athos said nothing. He put his hat on his head and disappeared off down the corridor.  
  
“Lay a hand on that boy Rochefort, and I _will_ be hanging for your murder.”


	6. Chapter 6

_Two days later~  
  
_ Athos was at the garrison, sword clashing with Porthos’ as the other man barrelled into him, doing his best to disarm the Lieutenant.  
  
“Do better than that, Soldier.”  
  
Oh this was what he loved.   
  
Swords clashing. Adrenaline pumping. Battle laughs...  
  
_Aimé and Milady de Winter..._  
  
Athos’ sword went flying from his grasp and Athos went to the ground with a yelp, looking up startled. His breathing was heavy and his hands shot up in surrender. Porthos chuckled and offered the man his hand, tugging him up. Athos scooped his sword up and giving the man a nod before moving over to collapse on a bench.   
  
“Good practice...”  
  
“Oh I owned you good.”  
  
“I got distracted.”  
  
“Such a sore loser.”  
  
Athos laughed a little, shaking hands with Porthos; customary in practice to ensure there were no bad feelings. Porthos collapsed next to him and peered sideways at the man.  
  
“You’re so distracted now-a-days, what’s gotten into you? Not Milady again, surely?”  
  
“Sort of her... Mostly something else. It’s complicated and I am not ready to talk to anyone about it.”  
  
Porthos sighed a little.   
  
“You know where I am when you are ready to speak of it.”  
  
Athos nodded and gladly accepted a mug of water from one of the women who worked at the garrison with a nod. He greedily sipped it down, eyes skipping over to the entrance where an errand boy was.  
  
Milady again?  
  
The boy made contact with him and ran over, handing him parchment sealed with Milady’s seal before disappearing. Athos slipped it into his pocket, nodding farewell to Porthos before heading off to his room, mug in one hand, doublet in the other.  
  
//  
  
_You and Aimé need to get to know each other.  
You should spend the day with him  
...Father and son  
...But away from Paris  
  
.. Don’t get caught_  
  
The words spun around Athos’ subconscious as he stared at the paper. Milady wanted him to take Aimé out for the day; not that he was complaining, but was the woman crazy? If they got caught, Athos would have to come up with a decent enough reason as to why he was sneaking around with the young boy who had oh so recently been taken under the King’s wing. Rochefort would see him hanging.  
  
_If you reply yes, he will be outside the back of the gardens, hidden away in the tree there waiting you at Saturday, 09.00_  
  
Oh heck, what did Athos even have to lose? If he didn’t do this, he may very well lose his son. He didn’t want that... He _couldn’t_ have that. He’d never cope if he lost Aimé once now that he knew of him.  
  
A sigh escaped him as he got up, moving to write a reply.  
  
//  
  
_Thud thud thud_  
  
“Enter.”  
  
Athos pressed the door to the Captain’s office open, peering inside.  
  
“Ah Athos, I’ve been meaning to speak with you on a... Delicate issue.”  
  
“I was hoping to speak to you before you finished writing duty assignment for the next week.”  
  
Treville nodded at the seat opposite him and Athos collapsed into it.  
  
“Speak then, Lieutenant.”  
  
“I’ve come to formally request the next Saturday off for a day of leave.”  
  
Treville was silent. This was the first time that Athos had ever requested leave. He couldn’t remember the man ever taking a day off, anything other than sickness, of course.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Personal matters.”  
  
Athos leant back in his chair, interlacing his fingers.  
  
“Would these personal matters have anything to do with the boy in the Palace?”  
  
Athos froze.  
  
“Boy?”  
  
“Rochefort came to me yesterday. Claimed that you had a personal relation to... Aimé, in the Palace. Is this true? Of course, I told Rochefort I knew everything... But what quite is everything?”  
  
Athos closed his eyes and nodded a little.  
  
“He is the reason I am requesting leave...”  
  
Rochefort nodded, and stood.  
  
“Take the day off, spend the day with him. But I expect to be told of this whole story within the week.”  
  
Athos nodded.  
  
“Meet me on Sunday, 10pm in the Golden Harrow, if you would. I’ll inform you of everything then.”  
  
Treville nodded and put his hat on.  
  
“If you excuse me, I have a meeting at the Palace.”  
  
Athos nodded him farewell and stared at the wall opposite him.  
  
Did Rochefort know about his son..?


	7. Chapter 7

Athos rode silently through the paths that lead to the Palace Gardens. His son was going to see him and be terrified, surely. The last time he had seen Athos, the man had been drunk; the fear in his son’s eyes still reverberated around Athos’ mind. How could he have even thought to do that to his boy?  
  
He hated the alcohol.  
  
At least he was listening to Milady now. He hadn’t had a drink since the night he had gotten drunk. At least he was learning.  
  
A sigh escaped his lips as he looked around, squinting his eyes against the sun. It was a wonderful day, warm, restful; it was relaxing. The fields would be amass with wheat, a perfect place to go riding. It’s not like Athos could afford anything else... He would have to ask Treville for a pay rise soon enough. He couldn’t have Milady and Aimé relying on other’s for money. It was his family, he should be the one providing for them.  
  
He hated the thought of what Milady might have had to do over the years to provide for their boy. He physically shuddered at the thought. His eyes caught the tree that Aimé was supposedly in,  and he slid off Roger’s back, patting the horse’s snout. He walked over, making it seem as unsuspicious as he could in case anyone was watching, peering up.  
  
Sure enough, Aimé was curled up in the branches, book in hand, eyes scanning the pages.   
  
“Hey there.”  
  
The poor boy nearly fell out the tree, jumping from the fright. He looked down and gave a shy smile.  
  
“Are you Athos?”  
  
“I am, you must be Aimé.”  
  
The boy nodded and Athos reached up to help him down. He set him on the ground, taking his hand, walking him to Roger’s side.   
  
“I don’t ride horses.”  
  
“Well then, how about I teach you?”  
  
“Horses buck me off.”  
  
Athos knelt down, meeting Aimé’s eyes.  
  
“This horse here is Roger. Roger has been my horse for years and years, since I was a little boy. Roger won’t buck you off, I promise. He takes care of anyone that rides him, and is a calm and gentle soul. He will make sure you don’t fall off.”  
  
Aimé gave a soft smile before looking up at the horse. Athos gently clicked his tongue, Roger moving forward to sniff at Aimé, causing the young boy to squeal. Athos chuckled and moved a hand to stroke his snout.  
  
“Give him a stroke, he won’t hurt you.”  
  
Aimé licked his lips, gently petting the bottom of his snout, giggling when Roger nuzzled it. Athos gave Aimé an apple slice, smiling as Aimé squealed again, Roger slipping it out of his hand.  
  
“Come now, see, he’s a gentle soul.”  
  
Aimé nodded and Athos stood, lifting his son onto the saddle, slipping on behind him, clicking his tongue, Roger turning off and heading away from the Palace.  
  
//  
  
Athos got off once they reached the field, holding onto the reigns to keep Roger steady as Aimé looked around, amazed by what he could see from his vantage point. Athos smiled, a hand on his son’s hip to keep him balanced. As they walked, Athos peered at the book in the saddle bag, and couldn’t help but smile.  
  
_The Musketeers  
Alexandre Dumas.  
  
_ Milady had her ways.   
  
“Can I ride him?”  
  
Athos shook his head, thoughts breaking as he looked up at Aimé, who looked a little crestfallen.  
  
“Sorry, sweetheart? What did you say?”  
  
“Can I ride Roger?”  
  
Athos hummed a little, tilting his head as he thought.  
  
“I suppose so. Don’t go too fast, alright?”  
  
He stopped Roger, letting go of the reigns before moving round to kiss the horse’s snout, feeding him a sugar cube.  
  
“You go easy,  boy, alright? Look after him. Don’t go too far out, either.”  
  
Roger gave a soft whinny in response as Athos moved aside, clicking his tongue. Roger started off at an easy trot, Aimé squealing and clinging to the saddle as he laughed a little. Athos couldn’t help but smile as he watched the young boy smiling, looking around excitedly.   
  
If only Milady were here, this would be perfect.   
  
Athos shook his head, moving over to one of the trees to lean against it, watching them both. Here and there, he clicked his tongue, loud enough for Roger to hear, enticing the creature to go slightly faster. Athos couldn’t help but chuckle when he heard Aimé copying the clicking noise himself. He shook his head, looking around the whole field; there were some people nearer the river that ran by, but they didn’t seem interested in coming over. He shrugged slightly, looking back and frowning.  
  
“Aimé, don’t go too fast. You’ll hurt yourself.”  
  
Yet, he didn’t listen, urging Roger off faster. Roger was aiming for a fence that cut the field in half, and Athos shot upright – but it was too late. Roger made the jump and Aimé, not having a strong enough grip on the reigns or saddle, went flying off.   
  
Athos went off at a sprint. Roger was whinnying, moving to gently nuzzle a crying Aimé, offering what comfort he could until Athos got there.  
  
//  
  
The Musketeer collapsed to his knees, gently wrapping his arms around Aimé as he sobbed.  
  
“Hey, hey, what did I tell you now? Don’t go too fast.”  
  
He gently ran a hand through the boy’s hair as he sniffled before leaning back.  
  
“Are you hurt anywhere?”  
  
“M-My arm...”  
  
Athos gently took hold of the boy’s right arm, running his hand over it.  
  
“No broken bones, just a sprain... Let’s put a splint on it and you need to rest it.”  
  
Aimé looked down.  
  
“S-Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be sorry, it’s alright. You got excited.”  
  
Athos smiled at him as he gently lifted the boy, putting him back on the saddle, getting on behind him. He urged Roger to gently jump back over the fence, setting him off quickly back to the city.  
  
//  
  
Aimé squirmed on the infirmary table, whining as Doctor Lemay tried to straighten his arm. Athos had to stand forward, gently holding the hand, keeping it straight.  
  
“Just let him put a splint on it, sweetheart, then it will feel better. “  
  
Aimé sniffled a little,  looking down as Lemay gently placed wood against the arm. He whined at the contact, needing a kiss to his forehead from Athos to quieten him.  
  
“Your Mother is going to murder me.”  
  
Aimé giggled a little bit as Athos took hold of the wood, allowing Lemay to strap it to the boy’s arm.  
  
“Keep this on for the week, take it off next Tuesday and the sprain should have healed itself.”  
  
Athos nodded and lifted Aimé into his arms.  
  
“What do I owe you?”  
  
“Oh nothing, nothing, honestly, just look after him.”  
  
Athos nodded his thanks, smiling as he took Aimé outside.  
  
“Probably time I got you back to your Mother.”  
  
//  
  
“What the hell happened to his arm?!”  
  
Milady collapses to her knees, hand gently moving over the wooden splint on Aimé’s arm as she glared at Athos.  
  
“It was my fault, Momma... I rode Roger too fast and fell off. Papa told me not to but I didn’t listen.”  
  
Milady tugged him into a tight hug, rubbing his back as she watched Athos.  
  
“You got him to go riding?”  
  
“It wasn’t hard... Just showed him how gentle Roger was.”  
  
“I want to go again! Momma can I go again.”  
  
Milady smiled softly at Aimé, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.  
  
“Later when your arm is healed... Which will be?”  
  
Athos smiled at her as their eyes met.  
  
“Next week, Saturday. Take it off then.”  
  
“Once that splint is off, we can arrange for you to go again. I promise.”  
  
Aimé nodded and ran over to hug Athos’s legs.  
  
“Thank you, Papa.”  
  
Athos couldn’t help but smile at him, leaning down to hug him tightly.  
  
“You’re very welcome. And hey, you are always welcome at the garrison to see me, alright?”  
  
Aimé nodded and Athos handed him _The Musketeers_ back from his pocket.  
  
“Take care, Aimé.”  
  
Milady ruffled the boy’s hair as he ran past her, out her room and off to his own room.  
  
“Can I convince you to stay?”  
  
Athos shook his head.  
  
“I have to see Treville... I’ll see you whenever I next have guard duty, I’m sure.”  
  
Milady nodded and moved over to him, kissing him gently. Athos’ hands found her’s grasping them as their heads tilted, deepening the kiss ever so slightly.  
  
“I love you, Milady.”  
  
“I love you, Athos...”


	8. Chapter 8

Athos walked into the Golden Harrow seconds before the nearby church struck for 10pm. He had taken the rest of Saturday to rest; sleep was something he sorely needed to catch up on. Sunday was Easter, and so he had gotten the day off. Well; he was supposed to have been at Church with the King and Queen, but Aramis had insisted Athos return home when he had shown up, pale faced, tired, barely able to stay awake. It was an invitation he didn’t think twice about accepting. Now, he was here, ordering water before moving across the room.  
  
Merely a week ago, he had learned that he had a son, at this very spot, and now here he was, departing the same news to someone else. My my, maybe God did have his ways. Athos sighed, leaning his head on his arm, yawning a little. He wanted to go home, to sleep. Or maybe steal away to the Palace to see Milady and possible Aimé. Oh, how he wanted to hold his son in his arms, tuck him in bed... How he wanted to lay next to Milady, hold her close to him and kiss her away to sleep. How he wanted to be a family.  
  
_Scrape.  
  
_ Athos’ head shot up as the chair opposite him was filled, panicking ever so slightly before he saw it was only Treville. The man ordered his wine and Athos crinkled his nose slightly. Sobriety was tough.  
  
“What’s happening, Athos?”  
  
Athos said nothing until the barmaid set Treville’s drink down, sliding her a few coins to pay. Treville nodded his thanks and Athos cleared his throat as the woman left.  
  
“Well I assume this has something to do with Milady de Winter.”  
  
Athos nodded.  
  
“Not fully, but at the same time, it’s all about her... Aimé, the boy in the Palace... He’s my son.”  
  
Treville was silent, staring at Athos before he moved to sip his wine.  
  
“Son?”  
  
Athos nodded, clearing his throat again as he took a gulp of his water.  
  
“Aimé de Winter de La Fère. Six years old; strong, healthy, bright blue eyes like my own, soft brown hair which will become his Mother’s colour... A gorgeous young boy. Intelligent, oh he’s always reading.”  
  
Treville couldn’t help but chuckle at the smile spreading on Athos’ face.  
  
“How long have you known about him?”  
  
Athos shrugged.  
  
“About a week. She was pregnant with him when... When everything happened. He survived the stress and she’s been raising him in La Fère since he was born. When he was five she came to Paris to work for the Cardinal and to earn money and then, a year later, she brought Aimé to Paris. I only just met him myself in all honesty...”  
  
Treville nodded a little.  
  
“Does Rochefort know? The King?”  
  
“Milady told Louis _and_ Rochefort... Everyone really; that Aimé was her sister’s son and that she dies when Aimé had just been born. The Father is unknown.”  
  
“And what do you propose to do?”  
  
“Be a Father to my son as much as I can given the circumstances.”  
  
Treville nodded.  
  
“If Rochefort finds out...”  
  
“I shall kill the man. I would rather hang and know that my family is safe then not do everything I could to protect them.”  
  
“Brave words.”  
  
“I learned from the best.”  
  
Athos gave Treville a smile before taking another gulp of his water.   
  
“Rochefort may know that Aimé is my son...”  
  
Athos’ voice cracked, tears pooling in his eyes and beginning to track down his face. Treville stared, shocked. In all the time that he had known his recruit, he had never seen emotion like this on his face before. He cleared his throat.  
  
“I will protect that boy as if he were my own, Athos, and I am sure the rest of the men feel the same.”  
  
“No one else knows.”  
  
“Just you and I?”  
  
“Just us two.”  
  
Athos looked up with a strained grin.  
  
“I need to keep my son safe.”  
  
“And we will...”  
  
Treville finished the rest of his wine and stood up.  
  
“Look after your family, look after yourself. I will give you leave whenever you need it to see your son.”  
  
Athos smiled and nodded as Treville turned.  
  
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have paperwork to finish...”


	9. Chapter 9

_The Next Day~_  
  
Aimé had been running around, pretty much minding his own business. He asked a maid here and there where he was if he found himself lost, but other than that, he didn’t speak to anyone. He didn’t need to; his friends were talking to him – not that anyone else could see those friends. No one else needed to see them. They were real enough to keep Aimé happy.   
  
Aimé ran around the corner and slipped on the recently washed floor. He fell over, jarring his splinted arm – causing him to cry out – and banging his face on the floor. Slowly, he sat up, rubbing his arm, before he noticed little spots of red. His nose felt sticky and, gently, he brought a hand to his face, whimpering when his fingers came back red.   
  
_Momma_.  
  
It was the first thought in his head and Aimé jumped up, rushing through the hallways to the upper hallway where his Mother’s bedroom was.  
  
//  
  
When Aimé got there; however, he frowned at the sight of two Red Guards outside. They were only there if the King had come to visit Momma. King Louis or not, Aimé needed to see her. Quietly, he walked up, tugging on one of the capes of the Red Guards, looking shyly down at his feet. The Guard knelt down a little, peering at the boy’s face.  
  
“Hey hey, what’s happened?”  
  
“I fell over a-and I hurt my nose and it’s bleeding and I want my Momma!”  
  
The Guard frowned a little and rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder.  
  
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but your Momma is busy, I can’t let you in.”  
  
“C-Can you get her..?”  
  
“I’m sorry but no.”  
  
Aimé looked down at his feet, sniffling a little as tears welled up.  
  
“W-Where do I go?”  
  
The man stood up.  
  
“Enri, take this little one to the Doctor, would you?”  
  
The other Guard, Enri, looked at Aimé as though he were scum before rolling his eyes, stepping forward to motion Aimé back down the way he had come. Aimé nodded and rushed off after him, stumbling over his own feet as he looked back.  
  
“Thank you, Sir!”  
  
The Guard nodded at the boy, a soft smile on his face, before standing back to attention.  
  
//  
  
Aimé and the Guard got outside the Palace gates and Aimé let out a yell as a hand pushed him down to the ground. He rolled over, looking up at the man, fear gripping him. The Guard scowled down at him, kicking the boy’s chest.   
  
Hard.  
  
Aimé let out a choked yell, curling up onto his side.  
  
“You. Scum. How. Dare. You. Come. To. This. Palace.”  
  
Each word was accentuated with a kick, each blow causing Aimé to cry out. His cries were quiet, pitiful, but he could see people stopping and watching. No one was moving to help him. Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes as the Guard kicked him onto his back. His foot found the boy’s ribs, almost putting his full weight on the fragile bones.  
  
“Get out of here. Leave. You should never have been born. You are a disgrace. Peasant.”  
  
The Guard spat on Aimé, glaring down at him before turning, making sure to kick some of the dirt underfoot onto the boy, walking back into the Palace.  
  
//  
  
Aimé stared after him, trying to control his breathing – he couldn’t breathe, what did he do? – before ever so slowly moving to sit up.  
  
Every single bone and muscle in his body complained, causing Aimé to cry out weakly. Sobs took him over, making his body shake in a way that ached and pained, but he couldn’t stop them. He wanted his Momma. His Papa. He wanted safety. He wanted his parents’ arms.  
  
If the Guard had gone back to Momma’s room... Aimé stuttered up, leaning against the wall. No one was bothering to look at a child, bloodied and bruised. He supposed they thought him from that place – where had his Mother mentioned? – the Court of Miracles. No one would help him, they would mistake him for a beggar, just like the lady on the way to Paris had.  
  
No.  
  
No, if Aimé wanted help – and he needed that badly – he would need to make his own way to the garrison. The boy stood up straight, wincing at the pain but forcing the tears down.  
  
_Be brave. Be brave like Papa, you can be a Muskyteer too._  
  
He repeated the words over and over in his head, taking his first few steps across the cobbles.  
  
“Which way...”  
  
Aimé looked hopelessly down the road, seeing he could turn straight on, left or right.  
  
“Time to be a big boy...”  
  
His feet went one in front of the other before he was stumbling forwards, onwards and onwards, straight forward.   
  
Surely, it wouldn’t take him long to get to the garrison?  
  
Only time could tell him the answer.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the MilAthos story line my friend and I are role playing on Twitter. Some chapters will be longer, based on the replies we send each other and when I feel the chapters should begin and end. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this x


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